Familiarity Leads To Invisibility
by marketeerbubbles
Summary: Sherlocks adventures while he is 'dead'
1. Six Months

**Six Months**

**Familiarity Leads To Invisibility**

**Chapter One**

A Sherlock Holmes story – based on the hit BBC 2011/12 productions.

A/N – I do not own anything but my own plot bunnies.

A/N – This is set after the final episode of season two.(Reichenbach Falls)

A/N – I'm in marketing. And a key rule to marketing is that people don't notice what is usual, as much as they notice the unusual. Based on this principle. By blending in with his surrounds, Sherlock is able to hide in plain sight.

* * *

Familiarity leads to invisibility; this is a truth that has allowed me to hide in the center of London. I have changed my appearance, my hair is longer, and I have actually managed to grow a beard. My clothes are old, torn and not nearly as warm as my lovely coat and scarf. John used to say I only pulled the collar up to look cool. Not so, well, perhaps a little true, but mostly it is because I feel the cold so deeply. John, the last time I wore my coat was seeing him at 'my grave'. He asked the John Doe there for a miracle. I wish I could have given him one. I miss him as he misses me. My first ever friend and faithful blogger, I check his blog occasionally, when I can scrap enough to pay for an Internet café. Nothing has changed since his last entry saying he believes in me. There is power in those words.

It has been six months since my 'death'. My brother, my worst enemy, the deceiver. John had been correct in his assumption that Mycroft had sold me out. I have contacts, I know of the fight. Go John. He didn't even look at my body, maybe then he would have realized, he felt to 'guilty' to do so. Molly was brilliant. I have not seen her since that day. Despite my attitude towards her, she is a good person. John should date her. I would approve of Molly and John.

I want to go home. I want to be fussed over by Mrs. Hudson and tell her to shut up. I want to shoot at the wall and play my violin at 3am to annoy John. I went to retrieve it while John was at work. He's placed in my honor on the mantle. I could not take it from him.

Once I never cared who I bothered. John changed that. John changed me. Moriarty then changed me again, and for the worse.

I have found some the lower minions of Moriarty, ten in total so far, and I have gotten information out of them. They are like little sheep waiting to lead, with no bell weather to do so, easy to scare, easy to manipulate. I am becoming what Donovan and Anderson feared. But it is a means to an end. I will go home.

The information I have retrieved, some useful, some not, has helped me form the web wall, pictures, articles; some lifted files form Scotland Yard. I have a secret place. It is just a hold in a wall leading to an old basement that's been sealed up. A dumpster and a piece of ply guard the entrance. Candles make the light and an old mattress I found on the street acts as my bed. I'm covered in fleas. Humans get lice, not flees. More proof for The Yard's gossip. My good clothes are protected, a plastic bag for protection against the damp, a mothball. Few irregulars know the truth; they get well paid for their services. I train them in theft, manipulation and observation and in return they act as my eyes and ears in places I cannot go.

John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade will be safe, and I will go home. I have a home. I'm just too dead to use it and ghosts do not walk.

But demons, demons can walk the earth, and this one will get the would be assassins.

* * *

A/N – so what do you think of the first chapter?


	2. Six Months, 14 Days, 6 Hours 15 Minutes

**6Mths, 14Ds, 6Hrs, 15Mins**

**I live in the Shadows**

**Chapter Two**

A/N – I'm feeling pretty dark minded at the moment, that is probably why this story come across so dark. I'm not sure that this is how Sherlock would think, but it works for this writing style.

A/N – I have taken the liberty of borrowing Johns role from "We Believe" by Quicksilver, I love that story. I'm just tweaking it a little so Lestrade is no longer with the Yard. Also, it is only the first and second chapter I'm working off.

* * *

I live in the shadows, I am the hunter, and I am the prey. But I will get home.

The shadows hold secrets, and they cannot tell. Shadows are always silent. Unless one knows were to lurk. It has six months, fourteen days, six hours and fifteen minutes since I died. It is just past nine at night, and while it is summer. It is still cold; the streets are all but empty. The homeless still linger, and the criminal underworld.

I saw John today, he didn't recognize me, gave me three pounds in coinage. I had often scoffed at his charity, something for nothing. Now I am grateful for it.

John looked old, tired and worn down. His 'I believe' campaign has caused a mild stir, but the homeless network is now assisting from the shadows. Graffiti is appearing. I was so proud that one of them managed to tag The Yard. Lestrade is now a private detective, forced from the force, because of me. He is chuffed at the 'art'. My death was supposed to protect them. I'll fix this for him. When I get home. Mycroft owes me.

I saw Lestrade, his wife is gone, and she took the kids. He and John catch up once a week. Neither is coping. I haven't the heart to check on Mrs. Hudson. Kitty has been taken off the paper. Well-done John. Nicely handled.

I steal the papers daily for information. Seems I'm becoming popular again. Rhys is a reporter not a journalist.

My search has taken me to the next ring of Moriarty's web. I will have to travel overseas for the next leg. I have been framing the outside members. I will not kill and they never see my face. I ensure it.

I'm only nice when I feel like it, sometimes. I leave some with just bruises, the small fries. The lesser ones; I leave alone, unless they joined by choice. Some were just being blackmailed, others bullied. Moriarty was nothing more then a Mob boss.

A spider's web is only as strong as its strands. I have broken one level of strands. The next lies in Mexico. I shall be going by plane. I've paid off one of the attendants. I have dyed my hair. I have forged a passport. I've kept the beard. The contact lenses are brown.

Mycroft must never know I am alive. He's persistence to help would only hinder. I leave in the morning.


	3. 8 Months, 2 Weeks, 8 Days, 34 Minutes

**8Mths, 2Wks, 8Ds, 12Hrs, 34Mins**

**Down Mexico Way**

**Chapter Three**

A/N – I love the name Tybolt, and Alys is pronounced Alice, it's an old fashioned way of spelling it.

* * *

Mexico has been successful. I have been here two months. It is humid, sticky and basically horrid. Worse then other places I have been, better then others.

The people here are a mix of corrupt, ignorant and innocent. Police are easily paid off. They have been. I have solved a few murders for them too. As well as broken a few drug rings. I did not bother mentioning the Moriarty connection.

I caught Tybolt. Scotland Yards infiltrator, Lestrades would be killer. His wife, Alys was shocked that the International Relations Consultant front that her husband held for so long was a lie. John always said I should remember people's names.

Tybolt was executed for the assignation of some politician here in Mexico yesterday. I have to vanish before Mycroft gets involved. My false name of Fredrick Li will, I hope, be enough to keep him away from me.

The last thing Tybolt said before he hanged was to me, across the crowd, but with his eyes on mine.

"You are chasing memories, mere shadows, leading to nothing but sorrow. Give up little British man"

Alys was not there. She has disappeared. Not my problem. Not a connection. Her reactions were honest and open. Like John.

Tybolt had heard through my false accent. I'm leaving on the next train. United States of America, I am coming. Another strand cut, another lead to follow. Mexico is clean of Moriarty

Eight and half months since death, two since I have seen John and the others. I am getting there.

Sitting on the train, I'm being watched. A security badge, twitching right hand. Gun on left side, CB radio on right. Uniform. Clean, pressed. Navy blue; police or security then. To far North to be navy. Wedding ring, well worn. Short hair cut, nice teeth. White teeth, chattering. American then. Has a dog, and a cat. Hair on trouser legs and shoulder. They are affectionate, loved. He does not like the situation he is in.

"Can I help you?"

"No."

"Then stop staring". My accent is German this time. I travel as a tourist. I speak German fluently. And Dutch, Spanish, Italian, French, Japanese. I wish I could deduce him. Too much of a tell, I hold the cards in this poker game. I used to play poker for drugs, and cigarettes.

I get off at the next stop. Too dangerous, I may have been recognized thus jeopardized. John. Wish he were here.

I'm in Kansas now. The guard gets off too. The Station Master is walking towards me, the platform is almost empty. A tottering old fool sits on a bench and watches. A lady and her children feel the danger and leave quickly. I act like I have noticed nothing. They both draw guns. The old man is faster. Both have the offensive weapons shoot out of their hands before they can blink.

The two men are on the ground, their hands damaged.

"I'd say you have only a few minutes before the cops come. I've disabled the security. The Station Master was black mailing the guard, go easy on him. He just wants his family back safe. See you around."

"Wait. Who are you?"

"Deduce me" and he walked off, a casual flick of the wrist to wave, his back to me.

The Station Master groaned. I took the gun and threatened to destroy his other hand. He spilled. Weak fool. I told the guard where his family was. He left promising to keep the whole thing quiet.

I need to eat, it has been a week. John would be mad. I pick pocket a random person who looks wealthy enough not to miss some cash. The wallet is returned somewhat lighter.

I eat, I have tea. They don't make it like John does. It is rancid.

The Station Master has given me names. I buy a gun from a street peddler.

I go hunting. But Moriarty's followers are after me. But I have someone too. That voice, that stance. I did not recognize it. Hmmmm.

Tonight I'll sleep in a hotel. Shower and sleep. Tomorrow I will continue my hunt.

* * *

A/N – I'm not sure if there is a train from Mexico to the USA, I am assuming there is. Feed back welcome


	4. 10 Months

**10 Months**

**Mysterious Stranger**

**Chapter Four**

A/N – this may not be in character, but I simply could not resist.

* * *

Ten months since I have seen the streets of London as a living being. Ten months today since I decided to see if I could fly. Turns out I could not. Ten months since I hurt and saved John. Saved Lestrade, saved Mrs. Hudson.

I'm in China. America led me to many of Moriarty's people. They are dead for talking or in jail for lifetime offences. My irregular network has grown to next to a global scale. Eat your heart out brother mine. The web is crumbling.

Sebastian Moran is supposed to be here. I am in the heart of Beijing. I am armed. I am angry and I am ill. I am also followed. The stranger form Kanas, I have seen him twice now, including the time at the station. The second time, I felt him, rather then saw him. A blanket was wrapped around me in night. I still keep to the street. I know it was he. I should not go after Moran but he threatened John. My John.

I can see him. He is staying at a brothel. Horrid people. I will never understand this need for affection and touching. John seems to like it though… No matter.

Moran got me before I got him. He was the only one I was going to kill. The stranger came back. Saved me again. John saved me; I think I'm delirious. It is hard to focus. There is blood, lots of blood and I am so cold.

The edges of reality are coming back to me. I cannot focus, I can just open my eyes. The light hurts. I close them again. John's voice is calling for me. I tell him I miss him. He says to drink. He says he missed me too.

I wake in a strange room. It is darkened; there is cold water next to me. I struggle to move. I know I am not bound. So I am weak then. I lay down more comfortably. Someone has been caring for me. I was ill. But I do not get ill. Holmes do not get ill. I look around the darkened room. It is secure, no camera, basic in itself, except for the medical equipment. I can hear the world outside. Water is hitting the side. It sounds metallic. I'm in the hull of a cargo ship.

"We are heading for Australia. It is where Moran and Happy Rayne are. In your condition I decided it would be best to just let them have the head start. Rayne is the brother of Moriarty and he is running the show now, as for Mrs. Hudson's assailant. He met a train engine in an unfortunate accident."

It sounds like John. It cannot be though; he is at home. Our home, my first true home. I have become sentimental. Not good, bit not good as John says.

"You realize your talking out loud do you not? I've been following you since Mexico. Took the same train and everything. You told me to watch. I watched. I hurt. I saw. I observed. I told Mycroft off. Cleared your name with the help of a great reporter named Rhys. Some of your old clients helped too. I kept everything is case you wanted to see it some day. Then I went on 'holidays' to keep clear of that overbearing bully brother of yours, far as I can tell, he took the hint. Mycroft is leaving me alone completely unaware that you are still alive. Speaking of which you, you have not been taking care of yourself either. You have been out cold for a just over a week."

Doctor John then. I have missed Doctor John, but surly I am hallucinating. I have to protect John. How could John know about the assassins? How could John know about me?

"Still talking out loud Sherlock. Go back to sleep. I will explain when you wake next."

I trust John, I sleep.

"Welcome back to the land of the living dead, bad joke I know, but you have to admit, well timed."

It all comes back to me, everything. I smile at him and try to sit up. I cannot.

"Steady on mate, three weeks of no movement and too long to keep track of malnutrition and you are in no shape to go gallivanting about. We have three more weeks of sailing before we reach Portland. But I have spoken to the captain, and paid him off a bit, to drop us at the Port of Brisbane. An Australian mate of mine from Afghanistan is keeping an eye on things for me there.

I ask John to explain how he knew it was all fake, how he found me, how he knew Moriarty's threat.

"I went back and reviewed the fall footage, then remembered 'The Woman' and her fake death. If she could do it. You could. Then, and I feel really bad for this, I cornered Molly. Poor girl. But she's a strong one. She explained how you faked it with her help. I went up onto the roof after that. No-one had seen your phone since your 'death'. Raz had it. You recorded the whole conversation between you and Jim. Lestrade and the Yard were so embarrassed. It has not become public knowledge of their folly, but Lestrade has been re-instated with full apologies. His wife is still gone though. You knew about that right? So I started hunting. I told no one what I had found and then, when I lost you in Mexico. Guess who shows up to help. Irene Adler. Yes we will be talking about that." He gives me that 'bit not good look'.

"Anyhow, she helped me find you, thinking along the same lines as myself. We find you and she took off again. Now lets get some food into you yeah?"

* * *

A/N – I like John too much to leave him on the sidelines. Thus he's back. And this makes me happy. Holmes and Watson are on the case!


	5. 11 Months, 1 Week, 3 Days, 14 Hours

**11Mths, 1Wk, 3Ds, 14Hrs**

**Following Foot Prints**

**Chapter Five**

"You enjoy messing with me, don't you?"

"You do provide me with a constant source of entertainment."

"Thanks Sherlock, glad you are back to your normal, irritating and brilliant self."

"You are Welcome"

John and I are joking around.

We dis-board the cargo ship, never did catch its name. The Captain seemed to welcome our departure. John says if I'm to remain anonymous I should mind my deductions. I was bored. He can deal with it. John has said that leaving him behind, even through good intentions was not a bit good, not a bit not good, but not good. He said, and I feel this to be wise of him that it is possible that we make our fear bad ourselves by always imagining that the worst is bound to happen. But considering our circumstances at the time of 'the jump' as now called. I cannot see another way I could have done it without losing John.

We are silently walking through a crowded dock. No one pays us any heed. We continue to the road and hail a cab. I have borrowed form one of the dockworkers again. John is displeased. His face to easy to read.

"You disapprove." A statement not a question.

"I have Australian Dollars Sherlock, traded Michael last night."

"Michael?"

"The Captain Sherlock, really, you should know better"

"Hmmm, Moran and Happy Rayne, really, with a name like that, it is no wonder he followed his brother."

"You're one to talk Sherlock and Mycroft"

"How did you find out about Rayne anyway?"

"Friends from the Army, now in ASIO"

"Ah, nice contact, breach of security telling you though isn't it?"

"I used my MI6 clearance."

"You don't have MI6 clearance"

"Mycroft does. A bit of hacking and pocket picking later…"

"You have learnt well"

"There is Shane."

We have been sitting in this vehicle for three hours, 32 minutes and 34, 35, 36 seconds. We are being taken to Shanes' place. He has Intel on Rayne and Moran. They have been spotted at Tangalooma Island. A paradise resort off the mainland. Before we go there though, we have to be briefed. Australian laws must be followed or we might be punished.

Boring.

I look at the map. The boarding dock for the ferry is back where we disembarked the cargo ship. I mention this; Shane explains secret location for clearance, immunity as it where.

We are armed. They LET me have a weapon. John says he'll be taking it off me after wards.

Shane and ASIO agreed not to inform the world of my current existence in the living world. I have told them my story, and John his. They offer us a position and citizenship. We politely decline. We miss London.

We are on the Tangalooma Express. We are armed. And we are coming. Moran and Rayne are at a pub having lunch. We are disguised. There are under cover agents at the island already. The hunter gets his prey. Moran and Rayne are taken alive and helicoptered out.

They are questioned by ASIO and us. MI6 arrive as I disappear with John out the back door. I have all the data I need. Their computers documents. Moriarty's information database.

ASIO and the Worlds other secret services will deal with the rest of the parties.

John and I are going home. I am tired. I am falling asleep.

* * *

A/N - One more chapter left


	6. 12 Months to the Day

**Twelve Months to the Day**

**The Dead Can Talk**

**Chapter Six**

A/N – this is the last chapter, I hope you have enjoyed it, as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Twelve months to the day today. John is opening the front door to 221B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson is out. Lestrade received a text five minutes ago informing John was back and inviting him over.

I look around the living room. It is much how it was the last time I saw it, only perhaps dustier and neater.

John throws his bag through his bedroom door and predictably makes tea.

"Tea?"

"Thank you"

We are back in our familiar territory now. We can be ourselves. I can see one of Mycroft's new cameras. I wave at it. John looks up at where I'm waving.

"Could have sworn I got rid of all of those., that's a bit obvious though, for Mycroft at any rate"

"True"

Mrs. Hudson is home. I hear her voice from down stairs.

"John? Is that you dearie? It's so nice to have you home!"

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson, I call back." No response.

"Be nice Sherlock"

Mrs. Hudson has come up the stairs; she is staring, now running now hugging me. John is smirking from behind his teacup. He hands me mine and goes to fetch a cup for Mrs. Hudson.

I hear him muttering a thanks to god for long life milk. Planning ahead. I like it.

Lestrade comes up the stairs; he has let himself in through the door Mrs. Hudson has left open.

"Guess I owe you 10 quid then John."

He punched me! John starts explaining everything. I go in search of my violin. Found it.

Mycroft comes storming in.

"Hello to you too brother dear. Come to find more information on me to sell?"

That stops him short.

John and the others stare.

John continues his story.

He finishes. Mycroft's reputation is damaged by information we have given the other secret services of the world. Serve him right too.

Twelve Months, 3 Days

The Paper announce my return, Rhys has been great.

The Yard lets me back on cases. The Chief of Police has suddenly found himself unemployed.

Mycroft should leave well enough alone for now.

I am home. I am happy and I am with me friends, and my John.

**The End**


End file.
